


In the Old House on the Corner

by ErinisMagic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Cancer, Depression, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Mute Sam Winchester, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 05:18:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/820449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErinisMagic/pseuds/ErinisMagic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the old house on the corner, there lived a man...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Mysterious Man

In the old house on the corner, there lived a man. He was a mysterious man, and no one in the whole town knew even the slightest thing about him. There were only a handful of times anyone had ever seen his outside of his house, and he never talked. Even so, he was big and strong and kind and loyal, and he was probably the kind if person that, if you were picking teams for something, anything at all, you'd pick him first. Even with all of these wonderful qualities, he was a very sad man. Anyone who had ever seen him could tell you straight away that he had the saddest eyes they had ever seen. He barely slept, barely ate, and if some of the neighbors heard crying drifting up the street from that house late at night, well, it was probably just the wind. Yes, he was a very sad man, indeed. Lonely, too. Well, not anymore.

As good as Holly's memory was, she couldn't figure out if that man had always lived there, or if he had just turned up one day, unseen, as always. She couldn't remember if that house had always been falling apart, broken shutters hanging loose, white paint peeling off the rotting wood, and shriveled up grass left untrimmed long enough that it reached up past your knees, all sorts of weeds growing up with it but never any wild flowers. There had been a fence around the property, once, but the posts had long since fallen apart and the gate only swung from one hinge. The latch was broken and in the middle of the night, she could sometimes hear that gate's rusty hinge squeaking as it was blown about by the wind. 

The first time Holly ever heard anyone talking about the man in that house, she was in the park that was behind it. A group of older boys huddled up near one of the gnarled trees by the chain-link fence that divided the two properties, whispering among themselves theories of who that man was. They stopped once they noticed her hovering near by, the small three-year-old girl not welcome in their circle. The leader of the pack, a scrawny boy by the name of Jeff, who was accepted as the toughest kid on the block after he had been attacked by Ms. Denby's dog last summer and had to get stitches, called her over with a false smile that poorly masked his nasty intentions, although at three, she really couldn't tell the difference between that and a genuine smile.

Once she got close, every boy in the bunch was wearing that same smile. Jeff was the first one to speak, his voice dripping with false compassion. “Hey there, sweetie,” he said, mimicking the adults. “What's your name?”

“Holly,” she replied in a small voice.

“Hi, Holly. My name's Jeff.” He spoke slow, treating her almost as if she was an alien from a different planet he was trying to talk to, like talking slower would make her understand. He pointed towards the back of the house on the other side of the fence. “Say, Holly? Do you know about the man who lives there?”

Holly shook her head. As far as she knew, no one lived there. It certainly didn't look as though anyone did. It wasn't in as bad of a state of disrepair as it was now, but the grass was still in need of a good trimming and the house looked like it could do with a fresh coat of paint.

Jeff smiled maliciously, knowing she was curious. “Did you know that he's a monster?”

Holly's eyes opened wide and she took a step back from the fence. She only lived a few houses away from him. Did she really live so close to a monster?

“It's true,” Jeff continued. “Me and my gang here have seen sliding about at night.” The rest of the boys nodded their agreement, joining the scheme.

“Wh-what's he look like?” she asked, voice quivering.

“Terrifying,” one of the boys supplied.

“Yeah,” another pitched in. “He's almost 8 feet tall!”

“With fangs,” said another.

“And claws!”

“And coal black eyes!”

“And skin so white you'd think he was a ghost!”

“And you know what he eats?” Jeff whispered. “Raw, live animals.” Holly gasped, and Jeff continued. “He goes out late at night and catches whatever he can find. This one time, I saw him snatch a squirrel right off of a tree branch! He holds 'em in his hands while they're still squirmin', and then he take a bite right outta their neck! And you wanna know what I heard? Some nights, when his hunts don't go too good, he sneaks into people's houses and gobbles them up right in their beds!”

Holly shrieked and ran back to where her mother was sitting on the bench, impatient as always and itching to leave and go back to the office. Holly was in tears but managed a few blubbering words to her mother to tell her what the boys said. All her mother did was, on their way out of the park, tell the boys that they shouldn't make up stories. She briskly walked Holly back to their house, and then was off to work again, leaving Holly alone with her father, as usual. She didn't tell him what the boys had done, even though she knew he would be more understanding.

For a long time after that, Holly avoided the house like it was a wild animal, tense and ready to pounce. She always walked on the opposite side of the street, hiding behind her dad for protection when she couldn't get him to walk by it any faster. But months passed and the monster was never seen sneaking around the neighborhood late at night to catch live animals, and Holly never heard any screams or anything coming from that old house. But sometimes at night, she could have sworn she heard someone crying, heart-wrenching and painful and it almost brought tears to her eyes listening to someone who was that upset and broken and...

Well, it was probably just the wind. 


	2. A Nice Man

In the old house on the corner, there lived a man. He was a nice man, really, but nobody knew that because nobody knew _him_. All they knew was that he was almost never left his house, and if he did, it was only a night with a 9mm in the waistband of his jeans. They watched him twitch at every slight movement in the shadows, hand darting back to the gun and hovering there for a few moments before he decided that there was nothing worth shooting at and hurried on. They watched him from their bedroom windows while their kids were sleeping, because anyone who had seen him and could gossip about him was suddenly seen as interesting. Well, not anymore.

Holly was one of the first ones to know that the man on the corner was nice. She had been playing with a big, red ball on hot and lazy summer afternoon, just kicking it around, when she accidentally kicked it to hard and it went skipping and rolling down the street. She held her breath and crossed her fingers, as best as a five-year old could manage, and hoped to God that her ball wouldn't roll into the man on the corner's yard. 

God didn't seem to be listening today, or perhaps he had more important things to do, because the wind blew open the gate on the edge of the property and in rolled her ball, almost disappearing into the long grass. Holly groaned, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. She jogged over to the curb of the corner, looking into the yard. She considered calling it a lost cause, leaving her ball there and going home, but she loved that ball. Her mother had given it to her on her birthday, and in her mind, anything from Mom must be treasured.

She stood still for a few moments and thought about her other options. She could go home and ask her father to get it for her. He probably would, except that he had gone out shopping. She could wait for him to get home, but that would take too long.

Mom wasn't at the office today. Holly could ask her to get it, but she dismissed the thought almost immediately after thinking it. Just because Mom wasn't at the office didn't mean she wasn't working, and even if she wasn't, she'd probably tell Holly to get it herself, anyway.

The only choice she had left was to go in and get it, all on her own. She peered into the yard and froze solid, all of the stories about a monster living in the house flooding back to her. Her legs trembled a bit as she stepped up onto the side walk. _It's for Mom,_ she told herself. 

She paused again at the gate, steeling her nerves as she reached out to push it open. The long, tired squeak of the rusty hinges (it still swung on two at that time) rang out through the street, the only noise there was save the droning of the cicadas. Everyone else was inside, air conditioning blasting, as they deemed it too hot to be out. Holly froze again at the squeak, worried that the monster would hear her trying to get into his yard and attack. 

Not a single movement came from inside the house, so Holly let out a sigh of relief and opened the gate the rest of the way. She looked around, guiltily, before stepping past the fence and onto the cracked pavement pathway that led from the sidewalk to the decrepit porch. She stood there for a moment, scanning the overgrown lawn to see where her ball had stopped. 

Spotting it at last, Holly smiled. She stepped off the pathway and onto the lawn, making her way over to her toy. She had just reached it and was bending down to pick it up when something in the window caught her eye. She looked up to investigate and immediately wished she hadn't.

It was a face. It was _the monster's_ face. The window was dirty and she couldn't see through it very well, but she knew it was him. Leaving her ball behind, Holly turned and ran. She ran out of the monster's yard and up the street and didn't stop until she was safely back inside her house. That night, when she curled up to sleep, she pulled her blankets extra-tight around her, as though they could protect her from the monster's claws and sharp fangs.

The next morning, Holly woke up sad. For a moment, she didn't know why, until her still sleepy mind remembered that she had lost her ball to the monster. In the safety of her room, Holly let herself cry for a bit, before wiping her face and going down to the kitchen to eat breakfast.

After pulling on her clothes, Holly wondered if it would be safe for her to play outside. She knew the monster only went out at night, but father always said “It's better to be safe than sorry.” She went out anyway, though. It was too boring inside the house.

Once outside, she wandered about the yard for a bit, wondering what she should do, before she caught sight of something red down by the mailbox. At first she was scared that the monster had hunted in front of her house last night, and that he had left a pool of blood just to prove it to her, but Dad had told her once that the color of blood was deep, not bright, after one of the girls in her kindergarten class had told her that her favorite red skirt looked like it was colored with blood (and, yes, that girl did get told off by the teacher).

Since it was too bright to be blood, Holly decided that it would be safe for her to go see what it was. Once she was close enough, her jaw dropped in surprise. It was her ball. _Someone had brought it back!_

Holly felt like celebrating, but something in the back of her mind was curious. No one else had known that she lost the ball, so who had brought it to her? And an even better question, who was brave enough to go into the monster's yard after dark? No one had gone in there while Holly was awake to see. 

Slowly, she thought things over. The only other person who had known she was in the monster's yard was the monster himself, but surely he couldn't have brought it, right? But the more she thought about it, the more it seemed to make sense.

Maybe he was just a nice monster.


	3. A Scary Man

In the old house on the corner, there lived a man. He was a scary man, unless you knew him, which nobody did. He was tall with massive muscles and shaggy hair that hung past his shoulders. He had scars and burns all over his body, and lots of people began to gossip about how he got them. Some thought that he might have been a soldier, while others thought that he had been kidnapped or something as a kid, and that was why he stayed inside all the time. Regardless of their theories, people always tried their hardest to stay off the street at night, so they wouldn't run into him. Well, not anymore. 

The first time Holly saw him was, up until recently, the night she most wanted to forget. She had been seven, and Dad was out of town and Mom was working and she had no one to drive her home from the school fundraiser. It wasn't that she minded walking, but when it was cold and dark and the wind rattled the dead leaves like some sort of morbid maracas, she'd rather have someone drive her home.

The quickest way back from the school was through the woods. Holly knew the path well. She had walked it dozens of times, but never at night. She was a little scared, but it had been a long day and all she wanted was to be home in her fuzzy pajamas with a mug of hot chocolate, so she decided it was worth it to take the spooky shortcut rather than spend over half an hour on the winding sidewalk.

She was only a couple of minutes away form where the forest path let out by her house when she heard it. It wasn't anything much, just a small scuffling behind her, but when she turned around, nothing was there. She tried to convince herself that it was only a squirrel or something and continued walking. When she heard it a second time, slightly closer than before, she was a little freaked out. When she heard it again, closer still, she considered running. She trusted that she knew the path well enough to run it in the dark and geared up for a sprint when, suddenly, someone was in front of her. 

It wasn't anyone she knew. It looked like a woman, tall and slender, with long hair blowing dramatically in the wind. Holly took a step back from the stranger as the moon came out from behind a cloud, casting a weak, silver light over the forest. 

“What is a young girl like you doing out here, all alone in the forest in the middle of the night?” the woman asked, the false sweetness in her voice sounding almost threatening.

“What makes you think I'm alone?” Holly said, standing straight and hoping she seemed brave and not at all scared.

“Trust me, honey. I know.”

Holly searched her memory, but she couldn't think of another path that would take her home, just this one that the stranger was blocking. Out of options, she said “Just heading home. My parents are waiting for me.” And, yeah, she may have lied about her parents waiting for her, but she figured that if the stranger thought that there were people who would notice if she wasn't showing up, then maybe she would leave her alone. It didn't work though. 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” the stranger said, her voice sending shivers down Holly's spine, “but I don't think you'll be getting home tonight.” With that, the stranger opened her mouth in a vicious smile and Holly would have screamed if the terror hadn't rendered her mute.

The stranger's mouth was full of fangs, and she meant _full._ Almost like a fang had grown in to replace every tooth. It almost reminded her of a shark's mouth, only way more dangerous and terrifying. She stumbled back a few more steps before turning and running for her life, but the stranger was faster. She had barely made it two feet when she felt a vice-like grip on her arm, pulling her back towards the stranger who was laughing. _Laughing!_

Holly heard a sharp _crack_ ring out from behind her as someone snuck up behind the stranger and whacked her over the head with something. She turned around, furious, and let go of Holly's arm. Holly scrambled into the bushes and hid, peeking out to see who it was that had saved her. It turned out to be a man she didn't entirely recognize, but something in her mind told her that this was the man who lived on the corner. She never thought she'd be so happy to see the man she used to think was a monster.

He was fighting with the stranger, now, and getting pretty beat up, too. He wrestled her onto the ground behind a row of trees so Holly couldn't see him pick up his machete and cut the vampire's head off. He tossed the body to the side, intending to come back and burn it later, once he made sure Holly was alright.

Yes, he knew Holly. He knew everyone in the town. He had tried to work as a night janitor in one of the office buildings for a while, but when that became too hard, he shut himself inside that house all day, researching all of the inhabitants of the town to keep himself busy. Once he had found out everything there was to know, he moved onto learning things that were usually considered a waste of time for a hunter, like how to sketch. Pretty soon he stopped, though. It wasn't that it was hard, he just lost all motivation to continue. He lost all motivation to do anything. He knew he should probably be worried about that, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

He walked over to where Holly was hidden in the bushes, holding out a hand to help her up. As she struggled to her feet, she looked up into his face, taking in a few faded scars and the deep sadness in his eyes. “I know you,” she said softly. “You're the man who lives on the corner.”

The man nodded and pointed to the spot on his jacket from his old janitor's uniform where his name had been sewn on as they walked out of the forest together. In the light from the streetlamps, Holly could read what it said just fine. “Sam.”

The man nodded, and Holly smiled in a friendly way. “My name's Holly,” she said.

Sam just nodded. He didn't try to meet her eyes or smile back, just kept his eyes trained on the sidewalk in front of them as he put one foot in front of the other.

They walked in silence the rest of the way home. When they got to Holly's house, she turned to say goodbye. “Thank you for saving me,” she said to Sam, but he only nodded again, walking down towards his house on the corner.

That night, Holly tried not to think about what had happened to the stranger that had attacked her in the woods, and when the news the next morning reported a fire being started in the woods near where she was attacked, she managed to convince herself that it was only a coincidence. 


	4. A Lonely Man

In the old house on the corner, there lived a man. He was a lonely man, but he never tried to make any friends in the neighborhood. He stayed in his house and only left when he ran out of food. This turned out to be only once or twice a month, despite the fact that all of the groceries he bought could fit into one bag without it even bulging. Those times were the only time anyone ever saw him. He'd walk out of his house around 11 o'clock at night, up the street to the small, 24-hour mart at the gas station near-by, and back home again by 11:30. Well, not anymore.

The only person who could claim that they knew the man was Holly. After he had saved her in the forest when she was seven, she decided that, since he didn't have any other friends in town, _she_ would be his friend. After all, she was the only person in the town who even knew his name.

Even though she was going to be friends with him, Holly was still a little scared. She started out by waiting up past her bedtime every night, watching out the window to see if Sam would be walking by. On the occasions he was, she'd give him a huge smile and wave. He never smiled back, but that was okay. 

As the months passe, Holly's intelligence grew and she began to wonder how Sam could pay for his house and groceries if he didn't have a job. She asked her mother once, and was told that he was probably a squatter. She was chased out of the room before she could ask what that meant, so she went to her father.

“Dad?” she called softly to the man reading the paper in his recliner. “What's a squatter?”

He looked up from the article, confusion written across his features, and Holly thought that she probably ought to explain. “I asked Mom how the man on the corner can pay for his house if he never leaves to go to work and she said that he was a squatter. What does that mean?” 

He thought over his response for a long while before answering. “It means that he doesn't pay to live there. No one has owned that house since before you were born, and he moved in without buying the property.”

Holly took a minute to decipher her father's words. “Is it like stealing?” she asked,

Her father nodded. “Yes, that's exactly what it is.” 

“If it's stealing, and stealing is illegal, how come he hasn't gotten in trouble yet?”

Her father shrugged. “Lots of people are scared of him and are afraid that he might hurt them if they try to make him leave, but I think that no one really has the heart to make him leave. He seems very sad, and I think that if he had somewhere else he could go, he would have gone already.”

Holly thought about those words for a long while after her father said them. She hated to think of Sam being all alone in the world, especially after he was so nice to her, and it was then and there she decided she wasn't ever going to let him be alone again.

She was nine when she finally worked up the courage to go to his house. She pushed open the gate, cringing slightly when it slipped off of the upper hinge. She took deep breath and walked up the cracked and uneven pathway to the porch, testing her weight on each one of the old steps to make sure they wouldn't break. She went up to the door, faded green paint flaking off in large patches, and knocked as loudly as she dared. It took a few minutes for Sam to open the door, and once he did, Holly smiled and let out a breath she hadn't noticed she had been holding.

“Hi, Sam,” she said, trying to use a friendly tone. “Umm, I'm not sure if you remember me or not, but I'm Holly. I was attacked in the woods a couple of years ago and...” Sam nodded, showing her that he remembered her just fine. “Right. Well, I'm not too good at math, and my mom and dad are busy, and there really isn't anyone else I could ask, so I was wondering, if you're not too busy or anything, if you think you might be able to help.” She gave him a small, hopeful smile and put on her best and biggest pleading eyes and waited for him to answer.

A twinge of what might have been pain flashed through his eyes, but he nodded anyway, standing to the side to let Holly through the door. “Thank you,” she said as she walked into the sitting room. 

It was very empty and in a similar state of disrepair as the rest of the house. The scuffed coffee stood completely bare in front of the old, torn, overstuffed sofa. She sat down on the edge of one of the seats gingerly and Sam went into the equally empty and broken kitchen, returning with a chair and sitting down on the other side of the table. She snuck in a quick glance at the walls, and noted that there were no pictures on them, just stains. A bookshelf was built into one of them, but there were only a few tattered books with titles that had long since faded until they were unreadable.

Knowing that she musn't seem like she only came over to see what the inside of his house looked like, she pulled out the worksheet her teacher had given her for homework and began to demonstrate her issues. Sam never talked, but corrected her mistakes with a red pen. Somehow, she still felt like she was learning something. 

She continued going over to his house for help whenever she needed it, even if the other kids made fun of her for talking to the “Mad Moose Man”, as he had come to be referred to as. She just shrugged them off, knowing that he was a better friend to her than any of the other kids. 

Eventually, when she was comfortable enough with talking to him and not having him talk back, she began going over there more and more often, regardless of whether or not she needed help with her homework. After a few months, she started going to the house on the corner instead of her own after school.

And so, every day without fail, she would visit Sam. She eventually discovered that he never locked the door and stopped knocking once he nodded his agreement. It was a comfortable routine, visiting Sam. Except for the times it wasn't.

After being over a few times, Holly noticed that he would always have a glass of whiskey out on the kitchen table. He never drank it, but it was always there. Sometimes, she watched him get up and pour the liquid down the drain, only to fill it up once more and leave it on the table. She never asked him about this, assuming that he just liked the smell of it. Maybe it was something familiar to him. Besides, it wasn't like they had whiskey scented air fresheners. 

Another thing she noticed was the pie. Like the whiskey, he never touched it. Just bought a fresh one every time he went shopping and left it on the counter. This, she asked him about, but he just got this immense look of pain in his eyes and teared up. She asked him if he knew someone who liked pie and he nodded, so she left it at that. She was smart enough to know that there were some things that were too painful to talk about, even for someone as strong and guarded as Sam. 

The worst, though, was the one afternoon with the radio. Sam didn't have any electronics in the house, so when it was nearing Christmas, Holly saved up her allowance and bought him a small, battery-powered radio. She stopped by one day and heard it the moment she opened the door: crying. Sam was crying. No, not just crying. _Sobbing._

She dashed up the stairs, trying to skip a few but the stairs were big and, at nine, she didn't have very long legs. She already knew which of the rooms was Sam's, so she rushed down the hall and threw open the door, immediately seeing him on the floor, folding in on himself and rocking back and forth as the tears flooded out of his eyes. She dropped down next to him, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders as best as she could as she simultaneously tried to soothe him and figure out what it was that was upsetting him. 

Sam nodded his head over towards the radio on the dresser which was quietly playing Highway to Hell off of one of the oldies stations. Holly quickly rose up and shut it off, wondering why it was making Sam cry. It's not like it was a sad song or anything. She pondered this for a while while she held Sam, not letting go of him until well after he had stopped crying. Once he had, she pulled back, whispering “Sam?”

Sam nodded, not meeting her eyes, looking down at the floor in front of him instead, long brown hair falling down to hide his face. Holly bit her lip before asking quietly “Why did that song make you cry?”

Sam sighed for a moment before pushing himself up off the floor, walking out of the room and motioning for her to follow. He walked back down to the bookshelf in the sitting room, pulling an old sketch book off of the top shelf, flipping in a few pages before handing it to her.

The picture he showed her was beautiful. It showed a man, possibly a model, with spiky hair and a big jacket behind the wheel of what was probably a vintage car. She studied it for a while before looking up and saying “This is really good, Sam. Who is it?”

Sam looked back down at his feet and wiped at his eyes. She flipped through the book a bit and found a few cartoons with hotel managers saying things like “We accept all people here, no matter their race or sexuality,” and the man from the drawing standing next to Sam, defensively shooting back “We're brothers!”

“So he's your brother,” she voiced her realization, looking up at Sam who nodded. “Where is he now?” Sam shrugged, and Holly felt her stomach drop a little. “He's not... dead, is he?”

Sam shook his head and Holly frowned. If he wasn't dead, then why wasn't he here? If Sam cried over a song that his brother liked a lot (and she assumed that that was why he was crying), then he obviously really cared for him. But if he cared for him so much, why did he hide away all the time?

Holly continued to visit Sam every day, but she never stopped wondering about his brother. She considered trying to find him and tell him where Sam was, but she wasn't sure how she could manage that. After all, she didn't even know his name. She could ask Sam, but she didn't want to upset her. He probably wouldn't tell her his full name, anyway. So Sam continued to live alone, sad and lonely with only one friend. He never spoke, not a word, and Holly prayed that nothing bad would happen. She wasn't sure if he could handle it anymore.


	5. A Sensitive Man

In the old house on the corner, there lived a man. He was a sensitive man, even if he never really showed it. He shoved away all of his emotions, just like his brother had since they were kids, but couldn't perfect the same mask of sass and nonchalance. That was okay, though. He stayed inside all day, so it wasn't like he needed a mask like that, anyway. Still, he tried. Whenever he went shopping, he tried his hardest to get that mask right, but he could never bring himself to smile or even speak. Anyone who ran into him could tell that he repressed all of his feelings. Well, not anymore.

Holly was the only one who knew how sad Sam truly was. She was the only one who knew that he had a family, but that family had probably abandoned him. She was the only one who knew that he still missed them, even cried about them sometimes. She was the only one who knew that he was one the very brink of falling apart, and unfortunately, she was the one who got the news. 

She had had a deep cough that she had assumed was just a lingering effect for a cold she had had a few weeks back. After about a month, her father got worried and took her to the doctor to have it checked. Well, one thing led to another, and words like “lung cancer” started getting tossed around. 

Mom and Dad were furious after they got the confirmation. “She's only eleven!” Dad shouted at the doctor who had to tell them, as if that would make a difference. Mom, surprisingly, had tears in her eyes as they started talking about treatment options, and Holly had tears in her eyes as she thought about having to tell her friends.

She called Jade and Alex once she got home from the hospital. Alex sounded as though she were about to cry as she told Holly to be strong. Jade hung up almost immediately after Holly told her, ran half a mile to Holly's house, and nearly tackled her to the ground in a hug. The both told her, repeatedly, that everything was going to be okay; that she would beat it and that they would be there for you. They took it well, but Holly hadn't been worried about telling them, she had been worried about telling Sam. With all that she knew was going on for him, she was worried that this might be the breaking point.

To her relief, it wasn't. He simply nodded, tears forming in the corners of his eyes, and pulled Holly into a hug, kissing the top of her head. She smiled weakly up at him, and he tried to return it. It wasn't very convincing, but Holly appreciated the effort.

She had surgery and then started going in for outpatient chemotherapy. Jade and Alex came over a lot, bringing her things like books and food and making sure that she knew that she could talk to them about anything and that if she needed a shoulder to cry on they wouldn't mind one bit. Sam only came to visit once, but it meant the world to her.

Mom was back at work, and Dad had to run to the store real quick, so Holly was home alone for a little bit. She sat on the sofa, trying to read a book but drifting in and out of sleep instead. The knock on the door had been a surprise, but she assumed that Jade had skipped school again and was coming over to keep her company. When she opened the door and found Sam standing there, somewhat awkwardly, her jaw nearly dropped in shock.

“Sam, hey,” she said softly, opening the door more so he could come in. He nodded and tried to smile again. This one was a little better than the last, but still didn't look happy. Holly didn't care, though. She was still trying to get over him leaving his house in the daytime. 

He sat down on the sofa, looking somewhat dirty and out of place in her sitting room, which her mother kept so clean and bright it might have been a picture from a furniture magazine. Holly sat next to him, at a loss as to what to say. She started rambling about useless nonsense she knew neither of them really cared about before really starting to open up.

Even though her other friends were always telling her that she could come to them about anything, she always felt like she needed to be strong for them. Now, with Sam, she felt no shame in breaking down and crying into his shirt and she told him how scared she was and how tired she was and how much she wished that all of this would just end already so she could go back to school like a normal kid. Sam let her, running a hand over her bald head like he had run his fingers through her hair after she had first told him. 

Holly talked and cried for close to 15 minutes before she started to drift off into sleep again. Sam noticed this,and laid her out on the couch. He got up and grabbed the comforter off of her bed, bring it back downstairs and covering her with it. He sat down in the armchair and watched over her for a while, and Holly began to wonder. She thought about Sam's brother, and wondered if Sam was the older one or the younger one. In the cartoon he had drawn, Sam had been taller, but something about the way he drew his brother in all of the sketches, maybe the look in his eyes, made her feel like Sam was younger, and that throughout his life, his older brother had always been the one to take care of him and protect him.

Holly soon fell asleep, and once she did, she started to dream. She dreamed that Sam's brother finally came to find him, and that they were happy. She dreamed that Sam started talking again and told her stories, answering every question she ever wanted to ask him. She dreamed that the fixed up the old house, and that Sam taught her how to draw, and that she and Jade would sneak out late at night and Sam's brother would take them all for a ride in his vintage car and that, all around, life was good.

She didn't wake up until her father came home. He gave her a quick kiss on the top of the head before starting to put away the groceries, telling her that he had picked up her favorite soup and her favorite ice cream, etcetera etcetera.

Blearily, she sat up and rubber her eyes, looking around the room only to find that Sam had left while she was sleeping. She didn't mind all that much, knowing that he probably wasn't very comfortable and didn't want to have her father try to start a conversation with him. She wished he would have stayed, though.

She wished he would be happy.


	6. A Special Man

In the old house on the corner, there lived a man. He was a special man, though. He was a hero, even if no one knew it. He spent his whole life saving people, just to end up hiding away from them. No one ever came to say thank you, or smiled at him if they passed him on the street. A lot of them were doing it out of respect, if he didn't want to talk to them, then they should let him be. Others did it out of fear, his large muscles and scars making him look dangerous. Some were just too stuck-up to talk to someone who was such an outcast in their town. Regardless of their reasons, they left him alone. Well, not anymore.

Holly was thirteen when it happened, had beaten her cancer, and had settled back into her old routine: get up, go to school, visit Sam, finish homework, have dinner, read, sleep, repeat. Yes, it got a little dull at times, but she didn't mind. Her friends did, though. Jade often asked her why she never hung out with them after school, and Holly told her that she was just visiting another friend. Jade, being very social and outgoing, jumped all over this, excited that Holly _finally_ had more than two friends. Holly laughed at this, but told her about Sam anyway, hoping she didn't think it was weird. She did, at first, but got over it pretty quickly.

The next of Jade's questions were as to when she could meet Sam, but Holly just shrugged, saying she didn't think it would be a good idea.

“Why not?” Jade asked, waiting for Holly next to her locker, bouncing on the balls of her feet at the excitement of meeting someone new. “I love people!”

“Yeah,” Holly said carefully, “but he doesn't.”

“Why nooooooooot?” he friend groaned irritatingly.

Holly rolled her eyes. “I don't know, Jade. He just doesn't.”

“Well, I'm sure he'd like me. Go ahead, ask him.”

“I would, but I don't think I'd get a response. He doesn't talk.”

“Doesn't talk?!” Jade said with mock disgust. “Honestly, Holly. The people you get yourself involved with.”

Holly laughed, grabbing her friend by the elbow and pulling her towards their next class, saying that they would be late if they hung around much longer. That afternoon, she did ask Sam if he wanted to meet her friends, but he tensed up like he was scared, shaking his head and playing with his hands in a way that somehow managed to make him look small, even though he was over six feet tall.

So, whenever Jade asked if Holly would bring her and Alex to Sam's, Holly would tell her no. She didn't want to make Sam feel uncomfortable. Jade had huffed at that, but, little by little, let it go. She found other things to do instead of constantly pestering Holly about her mysterious friend. Eventually, she did end up meeting him, although Holly kind of wanted to forget that.

It was Halloween. Holly and Alex were fine with just hanging out at one of their houses, but Jade was itching for something interesting to do. She practically pulled them through the woods to where an abandoned cemetery was located, eyes shining with excitement.

“Jade,” Alex said, trying to get her voice to stay steady, “are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Of course! Why wouldn't it be?”

“She's got a point, Jade,” Holly spoke up, ducking under a low hanging branch. “These woods aren't exactly the safest place to be at night.”

“I know, I know. You were attacked when you were seven. Seriously, Holly, nothing bad has happened in here since. Well, except for the Scarlet Lady.” Jade twisted back to face them, an evil grin on her face.

“Wh-who?” Alex stammered.

“Jade,” Holly warned. They all knew that Alex got scared pretty easily, and the last thing they needed was for Jade to start telling ghost stories, especially when they were in a grave yard in a forest at 10 o'clock at night on Halloween.

“You mean you've never heard of the Scarlet Lady?” Jade made her eyes go wide in fake shock. Holly rolled her eyes. _Guess Jade's not in a listening mood, tonight,_ she thought.

“Legend has it that, about two hundred years ago, there was a psychic who lived in this town, and all of the townspeople were terrified of her special abilities. So, on Halloween night, they all gathered together and decided that they were going to kill her before she could use her powers to do something awful. They all grabbed their knives and pitchforks and went over to her house, but she knew that they were coming. She escaped into these very woods and tried to hide in the graveyard, but the townspeople followed her. They chased her all around, but eventually had her corned. They stabbed her and beat her so much that her perfectly white dress turned entirely red with her blood. Every Halloween ever since, her ghost comes back to wreak its revenge on whoever dares get close to her final resting place! And that, my dear friends, is exactly where were going!”

Alex squeaked, huddling into Holly for protection. “Jade! That's not funny!” Holly admonished, but Jade was laughing too hard already.

“Come on, Holly,” she said, pushing open the gate to the cemetery. “Everyone knows there's no such thing as-” Alex's scream cut her off.

But she had good reason to scream, because right on the other side of the gate stood the Scarlet Lady, pitchfork in hand with a dangerous scowl on her face. The three girls stood petrified, eyes wide on the impossible figure in front of them. Unsure of what else to do, Holly grabbed her friends' wrists, yelling “Run!” as she pulled them away from the grave yard.

They had barely made it two steps away when the ghost appeared in front of them, looking ready to kill. She raised her pitchfork, aiming it at Alex, who had ended up at the front of the group. She had her arm drawn back, ready to stab, when a large figure jumped out of the bushes, knocking Alex to the side.

“Sam,” Holly breathed, realizing he must have seen them walking into the forest. He had an iron crowbar in his hands, which he swung at the ghost, and she disappeared from sight.

“ _That's_ Sam?” Jade whispered incredulously. “For someone who sits inside all day, he's pretty ripped.”

Holly rolled her eyes and started to walk back out of the woods before noticing that Sam was heading back towards the grave yard, duffel bag slung over his shoulder. “Sam?” she asked. “Are you seriously going back there?” He nodded. “Why?"

Right after the word escaped her lips, the ghost appeared in front of them again. Sam made her vanish with another well-aimed swipe of the crowbar, but now Holly knew that that wouldn't make the ghost stay away. If he knew how to make ghosts go away for a little while, he probably knew how to make them vanish forever.

“Sam, wait!” she called to him. “I'm coming with you!”

Sam stopped, turning around and shaking his head, but Holly jogged up next to him anyway. “Holly, are you crazy?!” Alex nearly shrieked, and surprisingly, Jade looked like she agreed with her.

Holly shook her head. “I'm _coming,”_ she told Sam, and started back up the path before he could stop her.

“I can't believe I'm doing this,” Jade grumbled under her breath, but went to follow Holly. Alex, who didn't want to be left alone in the forest with a ghost on the loose, practically dove after them. Sam didn't look happy with all of them going, but because he wouldn't speak, he didn't really have an effective way to stop them. Instead, he sighed inwardly and handed Holly a piece of paper with the name Mary White written on it.

She stared at it for a moment before realizing what he was asking her to do. “You want us to find this gravestone?” she asked, and he nodded.

“What gravestone?” Jade asked.

“Mary White. She's the Scarlet Lady, isn't she?” Sam nodded again, and they started sweeping their flashlights around the area until Holly called out “In here!” from the mausoleum in the center of the property.

When Jade and Alex walked in, Sam was kneeling on the floor in front of his duffel, having already pulled the casket out of the wall. Jade, as usual, was the first one to speak. “Great. So, now that we found her, what exactly are we going to do?”

Sam pulled something out of his bag and tossed it to her. She turned it over in her hands, shining her flashlight on it so she could see what it was. “Lighter fluid?”

“We're gonna burn it?” Alex asked, and Sam nodded. “Isn't that illegal?” Sam nodded again, and Holly thought he looked to comfortable with this. He almost looked happy.

He had opened the casket and was pulling a container of salt out of his bag when Alex shrieked again. The Scarlet Lady had appeared, throwing Holly back against the wall with hands on her throat. Sam looked up, panic in his eyes, before dumping the salt over what was left of the body. He grabbed the lighter fluid back form Jade, who was too scared to move, and poured that over the body as well before taking a lighter out of his pocket and trying to get it lit. Meanwhile, the ghost had lifted Holly off the ground, and she started making wet choking sounds as she tried to breathe. Her vision was starting to go black and fuzzy around the edges when, all of a sudden, the ghost seemed to catch fire, letting go of Holly with an angry, pained yell before burning up completely.

All three girls turned to look at Sam, who was staring at the burning corpse thoughtfully. “Sam?” Jade whispered tentatively, holding onto Holly, who leaned on her for support. Sam looked up and nodded, glancing at the burning body for a few more moments before gathering up his supplies and stuffing them back into his duffel. He shooed the girls out of the mausoleum and back down the path, stopping about halfway as they continued on.

Sam stood rooted to the spot, trying to stop his roaring thoughts, all of them about Dean. He had sworn to himself that he was done hunting. That one time for Holly was just to save her, just like this time. But staring down at the burning corpse of Mary White reminded him of all of those times with Dean, before he hated him, anyway. Taking down the ghost felt familiar, comfortable, like he hadn't felt in years, not since Dean abandoned him. Unfortunately, it also made Sam feel awful, thinking about all of the times he had doing things like this with his brother, now he would never do those things again. The pain he had for missing Dean nearly doubled, as well as his guilt and depression. The roaring in his mind tripled as every nasty word ever spoken to him came flooding back, along with all of the memories of everything he'd done wrong. He pulled the 9mm out from the waistband of his jeans and stared at it thoughtfully for a minute before knowing that there was no stopping what he was going to do.

That night, Holly discovered that gunshots in the forest blend in seamlessly with the sound of thunder in the distance.


	7. The Man Left Behind

Outside the old house on the corner, there stood a man. He was a tall man with a big leather jacket and tired-looking eyes, and he held a photo in his hands that was old and creased but he cradled it like it was his prized possession. No one knew where he came form or why he was there, he just pulled up one day in his 67 Chevy Impala and started asking the neighbors if he had seen a man recently. He said he was a private detective and that his partner had gone missing a long time ago, but Holly knew he was lying, because Holly knew who the man was.

The man walked up to a group of boys standing on the side walk, showing them the picture and asking them in an authoritative voice “Have you ever seen this man?”

The leader of the group, Jeff, squinted at the photo for a minute before shaking his head. “Don't think so,” he said. “Boys?”

The rest of the group shoved each other around as they tried to look at the picture all at once. “Hey Jeff?” one of the called. “Isn't that the Mad Moose Man?” 

Jeff took another look at the picture. “So it is,” he said slowly, trying to sound intelligent.

The man in the leather jacket looked hopeful. “So you know him?” he asked.

Jeff shook his head. “Not really,” he said. 

“Holly does!” another of the boys called out.

“Holly?”

“My neighbor. She lives in that house right over there. Look, that's her on the porch!”

The man turned to look at where the boy was pointing, quickly spotting the seventeen-year-old girl sitting on the porch. He walked quickly over to her, the hope in his eyes mixing with desperation. “You Holly?”

She nodded, stroking her thumb over the sketchbook she held in her hands as she fought back tears.

“The boys over there said you knew this man,” he said, holding the photo out for her to look at.

Holly could barely bring herself to look at the picture, but she felt like she had to. Sam had looked a lot different back then, she noted. His hair was a little shorter and he didn't seem to have as many scars. He was smiling in the photo. He had a nice smile. Holly wished that she could have seen it in person.

She looked up from the picture and nodded. “Who is he?” she asked, voice faint and shaky. Of course, she knew who he was, but she wanted to hear this man say it, needed to hear him say it.

He took a breath to launch into the story he had already told everyone else, but the look in Holly's eyes stopped him. He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face before saying “He's my brother. I got mad at him about 15 years back, and I tossed him out. I haven't seen him since.”

“Where've you been looking?”

The man chuckled sadly. “Everywhere,” he said. “Every town in every state from the east coast over. I got some friends to help me look too. No luck until now.” His smile was sad, but hopeful, grateful for finally finding a lead to his brother, and Holly felt awful for what she had to do.

“You're Dean, right?” Holly asked. She knew he was, he looked exactly like he did in Sam's drawings, but something in her needed him to confirm it, to admit to being the person whom Sam had cried about night after night.

The man, who had been staring down at the photo in his hands, looked up in shock at this stranger knowing his name. Holly kept her eyes fixed on the cover of the sketchbook. “Yeah,” he said. “How'd you know. Did Sam tell you?” his voice was getting more and more blithe, like this girl held the key to everything that would make him happy again. If only he'd shown up a few years earlier. 

“Sorta,” Holly answered, realizing that Sam had talked before Dean sent him off. Had he been chatty? Or had he always been more on the quiet side? What did his voice sound like? Deep? Happy? Weird? All questions she would never get an answer to.

“So, you know where he is, then?”

Holly winced. She had been hoping he wouldn't ask her that, but she knew that it was coming. She looked up at him, eyes sad and guilty and pleading for him not to do this. “You're not gonna like it,” she warned, voice quiet and small.

“Please,” Dean said, wanting nothing more than to be reunited with his brother, “just show me where he is.” 

Holly sighed, putting Sam's sketchbook down on the chair and standing up. “Follow me,” she said, keeping her eyes on the sidewalk as she led Dean to a field just around the corner, stopping right in front of the large weeping willow that had most definitely _not_ been there five years back.

Dean was at a loss for words for a moment before he managed to stammer out “I-I don't understand.”

Holly took a deep breath, tears escaping as she told Dean what might have been the worst news he had ever heard. Or not. It always seemed to her that they came from a sad family.

“You missed the funeral,” she said, making sure she didn't sugarcoat it or namby-pamby her way around the harsh truth of it. It would be easier for her to say this way, and easier for Dean to digest. “I made sure he was cremated. That's how you stop them from becoming ghosts, isn't it? It didn't feel right, the whole 'put-the-ashes-in-an-urn-and-forget-about-them-on-your-mantel-thing', so I told them to bury them here. I was the only one who really knew him, so no one really wanted to argue with me on it. A couple days later, this tree was here. Grew overnight, but no one is sure how. Some people think that he was such a good person that his ashes turned the soil into some super-growth formula, other people think it's just a really special tree. I think that angels made it grow; there's some symbols on the tree that are signed “Castiel”. Sounded like a holy name to me. He left you a note. I put it up in that knot hole right there, if you want to read it. I don't know what i-”

“What happened?” Dean's voice was low and soft as a single tear trailed down his cheek.

“Dean...”

“No. He's my brother. He's my baby brother, and if I didn't tell him to leave this never would have happened so you tell me right now. What. Happened?”

Holly swallowed thickly, knowing Dean would probably hate himself for this but not having anything else to say. “Suicide. Four years back. Like I said, you should probably read the note. Might explain some stuff, might not. I don't know.” With that, she turned on her heel and walked back to her house, grabbing Sam's sketchbook and collapsing onto her bed, hugging it close to her chest like a stuffed animal.

Back at the tree, Dean stood in stunned silence for a few minutes before managing to croak out “Sammy. Oh God, Sammy why would you do this?” His knees felt weak, so he grabbed the letter Holly had pointed out and sunk to the ground, leaning against the tree which he realized would be the closest to his brother he ever got again. He held his breath and unfolded the letter, having to wipe away the tears that blurred his vision before he could read.

_Dean,_

_First of all, let me just say I'm sorry. I'm sorry for messing up all those years ago, and I'm sorry for putting you through this again. We've already lost so many people, but there wasn't any other way. I couldn't go on, Dean. But it's okay, I wanted this._

_I'd tell you not to blame yourself, but we both know that you would anyway. So instead, I'll say this: don't get stuck in the past. I'm gone now, my life is done, but yours isn't. Please don't go drink yourself to sleep in a different bar each night, try to be normal. Give up hunting if you can, find a girl, get a job, whatever. Just be happy._

_Do you remember that time in Arizona? When we parked the Impala in the middle of the desert and just watched the stars for hours? I asked you what made you happiest, and you said it was family. Of course, you meant you and me in the Impala, driving nonstop from Fresno to Minneapolis, but you'll be able to find someone else to do that with. Someone else to sit shotgun in the Impala, drinking beers and singing along to all of your crappy old music. Find someone like that, and never let them go. I want you to be happy. Do this for me Dean, please? Just be happy._

_I know that we never really said it to each other, but I hope you know that I love you. I really do, Dean. Roll your eyes, call me a girl, whatever. I know that you love me, too. Why else would we have put up with each other so long?_

_-Sam_

_P.S. If you make another deal to try to bring me back somehow, I'll murder you, jerk._

Dean was sobbing for hours after. Every time he went to wipe the tears from his face, more would take their place. He read the letter over and over, so many times that he almost had it memorized. The sun was setting by the time he had regained enough composure to walk back to the Impala, Sam's letter and his picture safely tucked away inside his jacket, in the pocket right over his heart. He tried to do what Sam said, give up hunting, be happy, but something always stopped him. A small part of his brain would remind him that he didn't deserve to be happy. He had caused his brother, his own little brother, to take his own life, and that was unforgivable, no matter what Sam said.

So Dean continued hunting. Every day he got up, he would wonder if this was the day he was finally too slow to duck out of the way of a ghost swinging a crowbar at him, or dodge a wendigo's claws. He would wonder if this would be the day that he was killed, sent to rest like everyone else in his family. Sometimes he would wonder why he never found this frightening, but almost seemed to welcome it, but then he'd remember why. 

Alive, he was alone. Dead, he could be with his family. 

They'd only have to wait a little while longer.


End file.
